Hamdan was sitting at the bottom of the stairs of his residence, barefoot with only the white kandura on, he kept running his fingers through his hair thinking how he could fix the damage done in the past two days.
That morning he saw Sheikh Mohammed; his father could barely look at him in the eye and that was like a dagger through his chest. Sheikh Mohammed was so much more than only his father; he was a mentor, a friend, a lighthouse that had been showing him the way since as long as he could remember. If he ever became half of the amazing leader his father was, he knew he could die a proud man. Hamdan could not stand having their relationship somewhat tarnished, and even though he was not planning on taking back what he said to him, he acknowledged that he needed to apologize for how he expressed himself.
Sarah had agreed to meet him that night, she would be there at any moment and he had high hopes of mending things with her and then talk to his father the next day so he could resume living, as the last thirty-six hours had been an awful collection of minutes dragging lazily on the clock.
His phone buzzed with a message from Saeed, they were crossing the gate. He took a deep breath, opened the door and waited. Sarah got out of the car and stood in front of him for a moment. She looked effortlessly cute in white jeans, black hoodie, grey tennis shoes and a high ponytail. She had a blank expression on her face, it was the first time he could not quite figure out how she was feeling. Without a word she came inside and after giving Saeed a thankful nod, Hamdan closed the door behind her.
She was standing with her arms crossed, looking away from him. As much as he wanted to, he knew better than to try and hug her or even touch her, so he cleared his throat and thanked her for coming.
"We can talk upstairs," he added.
She took the stairs ahead of him and did not wait for Hamdan to open the bedroom door for her. Perhaps things would not go as smoothly as he had anticipated. Her face was not telling him much, but everything else spoke volumes.
"Do you want something to drink?" He offered, closing the bedroom door.
She was looking out the window wall with her hands inside the front pocket of her hoodie.
"How long has your father known about me?" She asked, dropping her head.
He walked slowly to the window and settled next to her, leaving some prudent distance between them.
"Uh... a couple of weeks," he replied.
"And you knew about that?" She asked without moving.
"Yes."
"He told you?"
He closed his eyes with remorse. "Yes."
It became apparent that she had it all figured out, the interrogatory was mere procedure, so he decided to answer every question as quickly and shortly as possible.
"When?" She continued.
"Before we went on The Smeralda."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lift her head up to look at him.
"I knew it! That's why you were being like that!" She said in disappointment with the same gaze his father gave him in the morning.
He turned her body towards her. "I didn't know how to tell you."
Her eyebrows went up on her forehead and she blinked slowly. "How about, hey Sarah my father knows about you?" Her tone sarcastic, her body now facing him as well. "We were on that boat for almost forty-eight hours, alone and you didn't know how to tell me?"
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Promise This (English Version)
Fanfiction"A strand of hair was laying over her left eye and he slowly tucked it behind her ear with his index finger. His hand kept going down to the back of her neck and he caressed her blushing cheek with his thumb. She did not seem to be cold anymore. His...
